


Turtle Doves

by Angelikah



Category: The Vampire Diaries & Related Fandoms, The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: D/s, F/M, Smut, Sub!Klaus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2018-03-11 00:46:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3309449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelikah/pseuds/Angelikah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Klaus destroys Caroline's favorite Christmas ornaments. She's not happy. PWP for 12 Days of Klaroline Smutmas on tumblr. D/s themes. Sub!Klaus because I can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turtle Doves

She smirked when she saw him, kneeling naked at the foot of the bed, his hands behind his back, his eyes lowered. She advanced on him slowly, predatorily, watching him stiffen as he felt her approach.  
“Niklaus,” she said softly, the corners of her lips tipping upwards at the shiver that wracked through his body (though he couldn’t see her face, of course), “Do you know why I am upset with you?”  
He nodded silently, his gaze still lowered.  
“Why am I upset with you?” She asked, the sweet softness of her voice not quite hiding her annoyance.  
“Because I shattered your favorite Christmas ornaments,” he said quietly.  
She could tell that he was trying desperately to sound remorseful, but couldn’t quite manage it.   
“Yes,” she agreed, “You did.”  
“I’m sorry.”  
She made a tutting sound and circled him, her heels hitting the floor with satisfying clicks as she paced. “Not the time for apologies,” she said, running a single finger lightly down his spine.  
He twitched. She smirked.  
She had figured out long ago that one of the reasons Klaus had hybrids was to have somewhere to belong, but more recently she had noticed that he wanted to be taken care of, to have someone to belong to, and she was perfectly happy to indulge that wish.  
There was a certain power trip that came with him answering to her—obeying her—that nothing else would ever be able to provide. She had always been bossy and controlling, wanting everything to turn out just the way she wanted it, but nothing gave her the neurotic-control-freak-on-crack rush like Niklaus Mikaelson, the all-powerful hybrid king, at her feet apologizing for smashing her favorite turtle dove Christmas ornaments during one of his tantrums.  
And oh, would he apologize…  
“You let your temper get the better of you again, Niklaus, and that resulted in you destroying my possessions. That is unacceptable behavior.”  
He opened his mouth, and then seemed to think better of whatever he was about to say and closed it again.  
“I think that a punishment is in order,” she said quietly, walking away from him and settling herself on the edge of their bed, “Don’t you think?”  
“Yes, Mistress.”  
A stab of arousal found it’s way to her core at hearing the title, making her cross her legs tightly. She could tell he smelt it though, if the light hitch in his breath had been anything to go by.  
“You may not come unless I order it, you may not touch yourself for a week, and you may not drink from me.”  
He nodded frantically, apparently realizing that she was going easy on him. It was coming up on Christmas, and she wasn’t going to deny them both fantastic Christmas sex in a week and a half.  
Not that she was usually hard on him, per se. She never hurt him physically—Mikael had done enough of that during his childhood, and frankly she probably wouldn’t have felt comfortable with it regardless of whether his childhood trauma had existed or not—and she was almost positive that part of the thrill for him was knowing that he could stop submitting at any time. Unlike before, when he had no way out, he had control over his own submission.  
She uncrossed her legs, but kept them pressed together. “Come here, Niklaus.”  
He immediately crawled towards her, kneeling at her feet, his head rested against her outer thigh as she ran a hand through his sandy curls, his eyes darkened as he smelled her arousal more potently.  
“How long were you waiting for me?” She asked.  
“Since you contacted me this afternoon,” he said.  
“Since four o’clock?” She asked, slightly surprised.   
He’d been kneeling in the room waiting for her for three hours. He had clearly known that he was in trouble, and had been willing to take the consequences, most likely knowing that he’d be rewarded for following her instructions perfectly, at the very least.  
“I’m very pleased that you listened.”  
He made a sound of contentment as her fingers ran through his curls more pleasurably, just the way she knew that he liked it. She parted her thighs slightly, allowing the scent of her to reach his nose more easily.  
“I can tell that you are sorry.”  
“Yes, Mistress. I didn’t mean to disappoint you. I let my temper get the better of me, and I apologize.”  
She smiled at his apology, changing the subject completely. “You look like you want to taste me, Niklaus.”  
Oh, he did. She could see it in the way his eyes shifted to the hem of her dress every few seconds, the way his tongue darted out, wetting his lips.  
“Yes, Mistress,” he said, almost sounding reproachful.  
There was one thing that he hated about his preferences, that, to his shame, turned him on beyond belief, and she intended to take full advantage of it. And judging by the heat rushing to his cheeks—she still took pride that she could make him blush—he knew what she was about to do, she was sure. She smirked. “How much do you want to taste me?”  
“Very much so, Mistress.”  
She made a hmming sound, her hand still running lightly through his hair. “Is that so?”  
He nodded.  
“Maybe if you ask nicely, I’ll let you.”  
“May I taste you?”  
She gave him a disbelieving look. “You can do better than that, Niklaus. I’m almost insulted that you’d think that I’d give in for that.”  
“May I please taste you?” He asked, giving her the full-on puppy eyes, clearly hoping that she wouldn’t go farther.  
She just crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “Beg.”  
His eyes darkened even more, his breaths shortening almost to pants. She knew that he hated himself right now. Hated what that single order did to him, that he was being forced to beg for something he dearly wanted, and that it made his cock harden even more.  
“Please?” He asked, his voice raspy and low.  
She pressed her lips together, not impressed by his display in the slightest.  
“Please, Mistress, let me pleasure you with my tongue.”  
She made a show of considering it. “You can do better. Beg.”  
He swallowed.  
“Please, I want to taste you, I want to lick your pussy and make you come on my tongue. I understand that I do not deserve it after my behavior this morning, but I wish to pleasure you. Please, allow me.”  
She bit her lip at the look in his eyes. She had always been a pushover as soon as he stated that he didn’t deserve her. He knew it too, so he didn’t often say it. He saved the words for situations like this, where he was horribly turned on and just needed release.  
“I am still disappointed in you for your behavior this morning, but you were good and followed my orders this afternoon,” she said, as though considering it out loud, “I suppose I’ll allow it.”  
She pulled the hem of her dress up and yanked it over her head, throwing it on the floor, and spread her legs more fully. Within an instant, his tongue was lapping at her already wet folds, stroking her expertly, circling around her clit every few seconds, and making her moan.  
Her fingers were already tangled roughly in his hair, holding his face firmly against her center, writhing as he pleasured her. It wasn’t long before she came, her juices dripping down his lips and chin and she rode out her orgasm, grinding her pussy against his tongue. She let go of his hair, her breasts heaving from her harsh breaths, pushing him away lightly. He left a soft kiss on the inside of her thigh, and she smiled widely at him.  
His cock was still completely erect and throbbing, precum leaking from the tip. She flicked her gaze down to it and he gave her a hopeful smile. She sighed and shook her head, kicking her heels off and swinging her legs onto the bed and patting the space beside her.  
He picked himself up from the floor and settled next to her, and she could practically see his smirk in her minds eye as she snuggled into him, her back against his front, and felt rather pleased with herself as she felt the almost unintentional thrust of his cock against the curve of her ass.  
“No, Niklaus,” she reprimanded, while at the same time pressing her ass more tightly against him, purposefully tempting him to continue. He buried his nose in her neck, breathing harshly.  
They laid there in relative silence outside of their gradually calming breathing, until he broke it a few minutes later.  
“I really am sorry, Caroline.”  
“I know,” she said quietly, happy to fall into their normal out-of-play relationship, “But I’m still kind of upset.”  
She felt him shift behind her, and then realized why when he pulled the blankets over them. “I love you,” she said quietly, snuggling more firmly against him, now that she knew he had calmed down and would be less uncomfortable if she did so.  
“Love you too,” he mumbled.

 

When she opened her eyes in the morning, she immediately noticed the absence of warmth from Klaus’s side of the bed. Yawning, she plucked his pillow over and buried her face in it, needing to feel closer to him, immediately jerking back when her nose came into contact with a hard velvet case.  
Sighing in annoyance at his choice of gift locations—why couldn’t he use the bedside table like a normal person?—she picked up the box and tugged at the ribbon that was wrapped around it, untying it. She cracked open the case to find two intricately carved white turtle dove ornaments hanging from pieces of delicate mint green ribbon, identical to the ones that Klaus had so thoughtlessly thrown against the wall the day before.  
She smiled softly to herself, gently closing the case and setting it on the bedside table, and strained her ears to find him. She heard the door of the fridge open and close and smirked to herself. Counter sex seemed like a perfectly reasonable thank you. Humming to herself, she grabbed her bathrobe—his minions generally seemed to come and go as they pleased—and headed down to the kitchen.


End file.
